Minerva could wash away the blood but she could not wash away the sin. Dark, red tears clouded an icy creek that slushed through the Kabacki Forest, and within that diluted stream of gore she envisioned warnings. Though the Kabacki Forest was calm, there was still pain splintering along spiraling pine trees, and regret crunching upon dead blades of grass. Between floating ice blocks and piebald sections of slush, however, there was a hidden face sparkling with delight. An old lover licked the gore of Reuben Remus’s enemies. She washed his savior’s flesh and polished her tools. She rippled on the surface of the creek, but the horde of Minerva’s dejection left her deference unnoticed. A gentle breeze swept by, so Terra sailed away with it; or, perhaps, she vanished, because she was that breeze sailing by. Reflections of Minerva’s discontent colored the currents left behind. Her loneliness flew from the icy creek, as if her subconscious was chasing after the comforts Terra had taken elsewhere. But, instead, her worries clung to splintering furrows, and her sadness chirped with winter birds…

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About Connor Wilkins

Quickly, quickly... take your seat. Our storyteller is about to begin. Shhhh. Listen... His pipes are fluting emotions of myth and fable, but don't be fooled by fantasia for there are truths hidden within his unworldly tellings. We're drifting now... back in time to a world only he remembers.